Don't Ever leave
by ShinigamiMailJeevas
Summary: He smiled because it ticked Mello off; Matt liked to see how far he could go before Mello had enough. MM Oneshot


**Disclaimer: **Don't own Death note

**Suggested Listening**: Don't Ever Leave **by** Smile Empty Soul

_~Hey~ _

Matt had long ago learned that when Mello was involved, things never went the way they should. Give him an inch and he'll take a mile. Mello loved, needed, to be in control of everything all of the time. And when he wasn't, he got angry.

When he got angry, Mello would storm off, to places he felt safe at. Or relatively safe. Sometimes Matt would join him, covertly, just to watch him. Always from a safe distance away.

The places we're always Mafia owned. Places where Mello could get himself into trouble but not get arrested for it. And no matter what. Whenever Mello got drunk, he always wanted to fight with him.

He was never really all that coherent when drunk, spouting off things from arguments they'd had when they were kids at Wammys, or about how someone had called him a chick, and it was all, of course, Matt's fault.

If they were out somewhere and Mello got into one of his drunken moods, barstools would fly, shot glasses would break and his fists would scrape at the sides of Matt's face. Mello would spit and snarl and force Matt into a fight he didn't want.

If they were home, if that shithole of an apartment could be called home, things would go differently. Mello was always more controlled there, as though he didn't feel safe enough to really let himself go. There was still all the shouting and spitting and verbal abuse and a bit of hair fisting, but it never got as far as actual hitting. Mello didn't like to hit him, said it was too impersonal.

"If I wanted to hit someone I could go out into the street, find a stranger, and beat the shit out of them." Mello had told him once.

No, Mello didn't like to hit him.

But he did love to sexually dominate him.

Matt doubted he would have stayed with Mello had the blond actually taken to hitting him, rather than the occasional drunken fist fight; it would have been too much like being a slave to his childhood drama.

A junkie baby with a hooker for a mother with some unknown cheap fucker for a father and an abusive pimp as a pseudo dad. He wasn't going to end up like her. Dead at twenty-two, looking more like forty, with a broken neck and lying in the gutter body bloated up like a rotted fish that's been in the sun for too long.

He could deal with Mello because he could deal with anything after living his first six years of life.

_-He couldn't move, and his breaths were slow and shallow._

_Everything hurt, even the needle that was put into his arm._

_"Shuuu. Don't cry baby, this will make everything feel better." the voice belonged to his mother. Matt pried his eyes open by sheer force of will and took in her bruised cheek. She had probably been beaten again because of him. Her pimp didn't like him..._

_But as whatever she'd injected into him took hold, he didn't care about anything anymore_.-

Matt could handle anything.

He took everything with a smile, even when Mello screamed at the top of his lungs, or hissed so low he was almost mute, as he threw Matt's things across the room, kicked them, broke them, stepped on them till they cracked right in front of him. He smiled, cheekily, sarcastically, wanly, even though it pissed Mello off.

He smiled _because_ it pissed Mello off; Matt liked to see how far he could go before Mello had enough and dragged him to the bedroom, or up against the wall, or on the bathroom floor, or just bent over the coffee table that no one ate on anymore after the blood stains wouldn't come out...

He should have died at age four, from an overdose of morphine his mother had given him, or at age two when he had been thrown from his car seat, or before he had even been born and his mother took all those drugs.

So in the face of Kira, the so called God of the new world, he hardly expected to die. And if he did, he figured it would be grand, maybe in a hail of bullets like in those movies where one of the characters sacrifices themselves for the others. Or maybe he would simply clutch his heart and keel over, drop dead on the floor and be left to rot.

Or maybe Mello would kill him. Slowly and torturously. Like he did every time he shoved him to his knees, gripping his hair and bending his neck back, stripping the clothing from his body and making him submit whether he liked it or not. Matt did like it, but he figured that if Mello actually ever figured that part out, he would just up and leave. Simply because that would actually hurt him.

Mello wasn't cruel. He just liked things to go his way, and if the only way to 'punish' him was to leave, if only for a while, he'd do it. Matt was hooked on Mello like his mother had been on coke.

Matt figured he'd gotten his suicidal tendencies from her. Otherwise he'd have tried to claw his way out of the gutter a long time ago. Like when L died and he could have done anything he wanted, instead, he crawled back to Mello like a good dog.

He loved Mello, for whatever reason. No matter how crazy he was. No matter how obsessed or worked up he got. No matter how flawed or scarred he got...

And hell, the sex wasn't bad at all either.

He loved it when Mello said he hated him and wanted him to die; when he spit in his face and twisted his arm and took him from behind, hot breaths on his neck and made his heart beat so fast it felt as though it was breaking free and would fall to the floor in front of him in a pile of gore.

He love how Mello meant all of it and none of it at the same time, how he could shove him to the hallway floor and ravage him only to kiss him gently, brushing his sweaty hair away from his eyes, only minutes later; how he could make him orgasm in under a minute, and again and again until the blond was satisfied with the results.

Mello could do whatever he wanted.

Because as long as he held him close after everything, Matt could make it through another day in that fucked up world.

_-I love it when you...-_

**AN**: WOWe. This came out of nowhere. XD. I'm in LOVE with this song and it just seemed so...MM. I hadn't been writing good the past few days so when I heard this song for the first time in months I just went all... aggressive? And wrote it. XD

I think I just had built up frustration. I'll just go ahead and blame work and FFN. Hmm hm.

Smile Empty Soul – Don't Ever Leave

Half inch fuse, ready to bite  
Never said you're sorry cause you've always been right  
Tell me I'm lame every Saturday night  
Cause you drink too many and you want to fight

All my life, hold my breath  
Wonder what trouble is coming next  
Hold on tight through this mess  
Sing that song cause you sing it best

La la la la

Hey…  
I love it when you're spitting in my face  
The way you scream when you're breaking all my things  
I love the way you put me in my place  
Don't ever leave me alone

Five cent heads, two bucks a pint  
I was late with the rent but I never say die  
Wet my bed, is it ever gonna dry?  
Learned to take your shit with a big ass smile

All my life, hold my breath  
Shrugging off visions of an early death  
Hold on tight through this mess  
Sing that song cause you sing it best

La la la la

Hey…  
I love it when you're spitting in my face  
The way you scream when you're breaking all my things  
I love the way you put me in my place  
Don't ever leave me alone  
Hey…  
I love it when you rip my heart away  
When you hold it in my face so I can see  
I love the way you bring to my knees  
Don't ever leave me alone

Hold on to me  
Hold on to me  
Hold on to me  
Hold on…

Hey…  
I love it when you're spitting in my face  
The way you scream when you're breaking all my things  
I love the way you put me in my place  
Don't ever leave me alone  
Hey…  
I love it when you rip my heart away  
When you hold it in my face so I can see  
I love the way you bring to my knees  
Don't ever leave me alone

**review?**


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